Alone
by forbiddenkisses
Summary: A few months ago, Charlie had a loving wife, a beautiful baby girl, and a job he loved. But he's since learned that everything can change in the blink of an eye, leaving you with nothing but an empty house and a loaded gun. One-shot. Former Twi25 Entry.


**~*Author's Note and Disclaimer*~**

**Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer.**

**This is just a look at how I thought Charlie might be feeling after Renee took Bella and left. Pre-Twilight but Canon Universe.**

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Six months ago, if anyone had asked Charlie Swan what he'd wish for if granted one wish, he would have told them to give the wish to someone else, someone who _really _needed it. He had everything he wanted—a house, a job he enjoyed, a wife he loved, and a baby girl.

If someone asked Charlie Swan today what he'd wish for if granted one wish, he'd tell him or her that he would wish for death.

Charlie wasn't really trying to take things like the gift of life for-granted or anything. He didn't yearn for freedom from his stifling home life and the sound of a baby crying in the night had not become too much. He didn't regret getting married and choosing to forego college. No, it wasn't Charlie that had changed at all.

No, he hadn't changed, but everything else had.

You see, Charlie had learned that six months could change a lot in your life. It could turn a wife into an ex-wife, a home into a prison, a job into a distraction, and a little girl into a ghost that haunted you every moment of every day.

Six months ago, Charlie's routine was to wake up early in the morning to make love to his beautiful wife before showering.

He would rock Bella in the chair in her room until he had to leave for work. Just inhale her little baby smell and feel grateful that he'd received everything he dreamed about when he was growing up.

When he came home, he would grab a beer and sit in his favorite armchair, holding Bella and talking to her in a variety of ridiculous voices just to make her laugh. Only occasionally did he look at whatever game was on the TV. Sports had lost their draw when Bella came into his life.

He and Renee would try to cook dinner. Usually they failed miserably, but it was okay because they were doing it together. A family.

Together they would bathe little Bella and swaddle her in a soft pink blanket before they put her to bed. Only after Bella fell asleep did the two parents slink off to their own bed for the night.

It was perfect. Charlie had thought so, anyways.

Now he rolls out of bed in the morning and stumbles into the shower just moments before he should be leaving for work. Some days he scrapes a razor across his face and other days he can't be bothered. When he does, there is a flush of adrenaline when he nicks his skin with the sharp metal of the razor that he is afraid to dwell too long on.

Charlie isn't ready to face those thoughts for what they are just yet.

Charlie Swan wishes for death, but he doesn't want to _kill _himself.

He keeps a flask in his drawer at work and picks up a new six-pack of beer every day on the way home. The clerk at the grocery store smiles falsely at him when she rings up his order and he has to resist the urge to scream. They always nod at one another in acknowledgement of what they _aren't _saying.

He knows that there is pity behind that smile.

She knows better than to ask about the baby, although the curiosity burns through her gut like a well-aged whiskey.

Occasionally he stops for dinner at the diner, but usually he just shovels dry cereal into his mouth with his hand and washes it down with a few swigs of bourbon. This makeshift meal is infinitely more desirable than facing all the sidelong glances and concerned questions of the general populace of Forks, Washington. They take care of their own here, and Charlie always thought that was admirable.

Now he just thinks it is annoying.

He turns the games on but is usually too busy staring at the family portraits hung all around the living room to watch the game.

Only now does he see the strain in the set of Renee's mouth as the picture version of himself stands proudly next to her on their wedding day.

Only now does he notice the lines in her forehead and the straight gash of her mouth most definitely _not_ smiling as she holds Bella on Christmas morning. No, if Charlie had to call that not-smile anything, he'd call it a grimace. The entire time Charlie thought they were happy, the perfect family, Renee was plotting her escape plan. He can see it in her eyes. The Redskins lose again and it is time to turn the TV off.

Each night before bed, he walks around the house and looks at all the places his family once occupied. Some nights he throws things. Other nights he cries. It depends on if it is a good day or a bad day.

On the good days, he ends up in the rocking chair in Bella's room, clutching a forgotten baby blanket to his chest as he rocks gently. He can still smell the baby powder in the air He falls asleep here and does not move to his own lonely bed until he wakes up part way through the night.

On the really bad days, he gets his service weapon and cradles it like a baby, his baby, his Bella, relishing in the thought that he could end it all. The memories. The pain. All of it gone in a flash. Or a bang, really. Each time this happens, it is the memory of his little Bella's face that stops him.

Sweet Bella's face, with her swirl of brown hair and her big eyes that just changed from blue to brown. Her dimpled cheeks and her chubby hands, reaching for his face. That face is like a knife through his chest but he also can't stand the thought of never seeing her again.

Six months ago, Charlie Swan had everything he had ever wanted. A loving wife. A great job. A wonderful home. A beautiful baby girl.

Now Charlie is alone.


End file.
